


Dream Police

by kakaitalover



Series: Dreams [2]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Accidental Abuse of Trust, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, M/M, Temperature Play, Un-Negotiated Kink, light humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakaitalover/pseuds/kakaitalover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is your big romantic present? An empty council room? I'm sad to say, John, this isn't quite up to your usual standards.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Police

**Author's Note:**

> Originally titled Dreams Of Fire And Smoke. [Dream Police](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjMCaw4qzjg&spfreload=10%20Message%3A%20Unexpected%20end%20of%20input%20\(url%3A%20http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DMjMCaw4qzjg\)) is by Cheap Trick.

The room was almost unfamiliar when they walked in. It had been more than a year, after all, and memory was an imprecise thing. Still, the table loomed large and immediately recognizable, and from the sharp intake of breath next to him John knew Harry remembered it too, although he didn't admit as much.

“This is your big romantic present? An empty council room? I'm sad to say, John, this isn't quite up to your usual standards.” John ignored the snark, fingers working to undo his shirt buttons.

“A year and a half ago you had a remarkably detailed list of things you wanted to do to me in this room. I thought, considering the occasion, a bit of fantasy-fulfillment might not go amiss.” He turned and leaned back against the stone table, eyes demurely fixed on the floor, slipping his shirt and jacket off together under Harry's darkening gaze. He fingered the tie still hanging from his neck, then slid his hands lower to unbutton his pants.

“No.” The word might have been a blade to the throat for the effect it had on John. He froze, waiting for judgment. Had he made a mistake? He'd been sure Harry would appreciate the idea, closet sap that he was, and John himself had been aching for this since it had been murmured into his disbelieving ear over a year ago.

“Put your hands behind you and close your eyes. _I_ want to unwrap my present.” He relaxed into the velvet growl, linking his hands on the table obediently and arching ever-so-slightly in invitation. Cold stone bit into his buttocks through his trousers and his cock twitched in nervous anticipation of rutting into the frigid onyx. In contrast, the warm hands running over his bare chest were positively furnaces.

His pants fell to his ankles in one smooth motion, and he smirked a little, pleased by the gape he could _feel_ plastered across his lover's face. Completely unrestrained by underwear, his cock bobbed free in the cool air.

Familiar hands yanked him about, tripping on the knot of clothes at his feet, and braced him against the table. He automatically flinched away from frigid rock, only to be clamped against it by the feverishly hot hips behind him. When had Harry slipped free of his own layers?

“You're a tease, that's what you are, John Marcone. A wretched, shameless tease who needs nothing so much as a good, hard fucking to put him back in his place. Isn't that right, sweetheart?” Thin silk fluttered away, slipping unhindered from his throat.

“Yess, please, that's exactly what I need. Please give it to me.”

“You know, John, I've got a present for you, too. Something new.”

John's skin tingled all over as he thought about what Harry might have for him. Something new? They'd played around before with cockrings, plugs, clamps, paddles, gags, ropes, handcuffs, riding crops – even a goodly few magical items enchanted to behave like their electronic counterparts, once Harry discovered what John was like after a few hours at the mercy of a remote vibrator, controlled by the innocent, relentless fingers of a toddler with a brand new light-flashing, noise-making, button-pressing toy. John never, _ever_ took calls during playtime anymore unless they were truly life-and-death or apocalypse-level emergencies.

What was left that qualified as new? Well, plenty, but what was left that Harry would be willing to use? He was typically far more careful about how John got hurt than John himself was in these games. Maybe he'd finally come around to a little knifeplay? Or gunplay? Or – the table's lower edge viciously punished his involuntary reaction to the thought – blasting rod-play?

He heard Harry rummaging through the bag he'd brought, opening what sounded like a tupperware box and setting something hard on a book-laden shelf off to the left. What was he going to use from so far away?

“Stay exactly as you are, John,” he ordered as he knocked on whatever it was. “Wakey, wakey.”

“What – oh! Oh, _Boss!_ You meant it!”

John stiffened, a thin hair from lunging for his clothes and stalking out of the room. What in _hell_ had possessed Harry to invite a stranger to their games? He'd thought the man understood the need for secrecy in this matter – John _could not_ afford to look weak in the public eye, and taking a submissive role in this relationship had been a dangerous gamble that he'd nevertheless rarely regretted, until now.

“ _Harry?”_

“It's okay, John, I promise. Bob's here to watch, under the condition that he never speak of what happens in this session once it's over. Ever. To anyone. Including me. Right, Bob?”

“Aw, but Harry – ”

“ _Right, Bob?”_

“I promise. I promise, Boss. No speaking about it to anyone, ever, I promise. Please let me stay!”

“Thrice promised, John, and I trust him as much as you do Cujo anyway. That good enough?”

John shifted uncertainly, irritation and anxiety warring with desire and rationalization. It was a foolish risk, but... He _liked_ pleasing Harry, and of course, there was the other thing...

“Why?” he snapped, indecision making him surly. He knew Harry didn't have an exhibitionist streak – he'd tested those waters thoroughly. It didn't make sense for him to spring this on John now.

“Did you think I wouldn't notice?” came the husky response from directly behind him. Harry stepped forward and embraced him, setting John shivering with the sudden heat engulfing him. He licked a wet, fiery path down John's neck, goosebumps rising in his wake as the saliva cooled.

“Notice what?” John panted, already half-distracted from his protest.

“How hard you come when I jerk you off after Cujo's left for a coffee. You and I both know perfectly well that he's going to take extra long so he doesn't walk in on something – he's not dumb. But he might time it wrong, and that _thrills_ you. Or how wild you get whenever I put you up on your desk during office hours and fuck you while you try desperately not to make noise, knowing that any second I might coax a sound from you loud enough to bring someone rushing in. Remember the time I had you against that one-way window? I saw how you stared at the people outside as they passed, jerking against the glass every time one of them seemed to be looking our way. And when I ate you out in my office with the door unlocked, you could hardly tear your eyes away from it. Did you think I wouldn't _notice,_ John?”

John _hadn't_ thought he'd notice – after years of blunting his horns on the wall of Dresden Obliviousness™ it was still difficult to remember that once Harry was actually aware that someone was interested, he could be frighteningly good at picking up on small cues and unstated desires. How on earth the wizard had immediately cottoned on to John's weakness for dirty talk, for example, still mystified him. Harry took advantage of John's distraction to snap open the lube.

“Did you think I'd missed how blown your pupils were when I teased you about blowjobs under the desk?” he crooned, easing cold slick between John's legs while John did his level best not to rut against the sharp edge of the now almost lukewarm table side, “or the way you get two or three times as hot and bothered when I grope you in public?”

He withdrew long enough to boost John onto the table before plunging back in and launching an attack on John's unwitting prostate. John yelped as his whole front was tumbled onto seemingly arctic stone. His nipples puckered in an instant, his belly quivered trying to escape the abrupt cold, his dick vehemently protested this sudden abuse, and his balls seemed to be trying to climb up into his body and squeeze out a few extra sperm at the same time.

“I ought to have you call up Hendricks sometime, make you talk to him in those level tones of yours, trying not to let him guess what I'm doing to you as I slick you up and plow you from behind.” John's legs dangled from the unusually high tabletop, toes just barely skimming the carpet, and as the internal assault escalated he kicked them uselessly – sending his pants flying – trying to find purchase on something, anything, that would let him rock back onto the relentless fingers or escape them altogether.

“Aw, did you hear that squeak, Boss? That was adorable! Make him do it again!”

Long digits swirled and crooked, and John squeaked on cue in spite of himself, cheeks hot with embarrassment and renewed, hypersensitive awareness of “Bob's” regard.

Harry let his other hand drift between John's thighs, coaxing his bewildered gonads out from their refuge and warming them in his palm. He tugged them back so they'd be visible from Bob's bookshelf, massaging them and showing them off like fine jewels. “Aren't they something, Bob? Always figured them for solid brass, but he's as human as any man, look.”

Then he dropped them against the icy table, waited for them to retreat in confusion, and repeated the process. All the while he stroked and prodded and teased, now drifting close enough to John's prostate to shoot off phantom sparks behind his eyes, now toying with the very rim of John's opening, leaving John quaking, trying to suck his digits back inside where they belonged. A low, animal sound escaped John's throat, desperate and wanton.

“Oh, hell, Boss, are you really going to keep teasing him after _that?_ That was porn-star material, right there! Hey, hook his leg over a chair, let me see his hole. Is it pink? Does he shave it? Maybe he doesn't have to, does he have to? Is it – ooh. Ooh, that's pretty. Look at it flutter! Heh, he really wants you in there, huh, Boss?”

Every word was like a firebrand lit in John's stomach, and the heat flowed from his mouth in sobbing, gasping pants, painting the frigid surface of the table with condensation. He could barely feel his front anymore, and hot tears streaked down his cheeks to mingle with smeared drool as he begged breathlessly for more.

Harry spread him open with his fingers, left him like that while he adjusted himself. Then he lined himself up and pushed in – John yowled his approval – but only as far as his head. “You seem to have forgotten, Bob,” he purred, all dark heat and not-quite-menace.

“Teasing is what this night is all about. Isn't, babe?” He started gyrating in small motions that stimulated John's entrance without supplying any kind of physical satisfaction. “How long did I say I'd work you like this, do you remember? An hour? Two? You're such a kinky little slut. Can't wait to spread your legs and let me do whatever I like to you.”

Harry leaned down, his breath fanning hot against John's chilled neck, brushing against his ear, passing cool and gentle over a flushed cheek. “And now you want an audience, you dirty little pervert. Maybe I should make you beg me for it like the whore you are. Shall I put him away? Send him back to sleep and lock him away in his box again?”

Bob's frantic protests went ignored. John whimpered and shook, rolling his head from side to side on the no-longer-cold-enough polished stone with guttural negations.

“No? Are you sure?”

John nodded, trying and failing to buck against the projection torturing his sphincter. It slipped in and out by infinitesimal measures, setting him aflame with need and doing nothing to assuage it. A finger worked in beside it for a thrust or two, and oh, Christ, that was incredible.

“Tell me with words, baby. Tell me why I shouldn't leave you here and take Bob back home to finish his beauty sleep.”

“No... no...”

“Why not, babe? C'mon, convince me.”

“Please. Please. Stay. Give me... Please, Harry”

“Please what? What should I give you? You have to ask for it, darling.”

“More.” The word was a bare whisper against the stone under his cheek, inaudible to ordinary ears.

“What was that, sweetcheeks? I don't think I quite heard.”

“M-more.”

“A little louder, honey, Bob wants to hear it too. What is it you want?” The last word was punctuated with a thrust that took Harry almost halfway home.

“MORE!”

“Ah, there's my good boy.” And Harry began pounding into John, reducing him to a melted, blubbering puddle on the table, shouting gibberish and crying out as his sweet spot was struck again and again. Bob was all but forgotten as he gloriously and messily spurted across the polished stone without a hand ever touching his cock. The breathlessly animated chatter as he came back to his senses and eased off the table ensured that that state of affairs did not continue however, and John blushed all over as he recalled everything Harry's friend had seen – and heard – and _said,_ God, the … being, whatever he was, had a knack for spewing some of the most cheerful filth John had ever heard.

“Harry? Would you mind terribly if I opened my eyes now, or do you need to get your … friend out of sight first?” He'd heard of odder things these days than a creature that couldn't be looked upon by strangers.

“Uh? Oh, right, yeah, go ahead!”

John blinked away the tears triggered by his light-sensitized pupils and stared at the ancient skull resting on the shelf in front of him. The ancient skull with wavering flames for eyes. One of them flickered in what appeared to be a wink.

“ _Nice_ moves you got there, 'sweetcheeks'.”

“ _Bob!”_ Harry roared.

“What? It was a compliment!”

John sank into a nearby chair, wincing at the rough cloth pressing against some very tender areas, and massaged his temples as the two bickered familiarly.

“But he's so graceful, not like you, you oversized puppy – although I guess you're quite the stallion now, hot damn, I never would have thought you were capable of all that – ”

“Shutup shutup shutup, it's not any of your business what he's like! _Or_ what I'm like, you perverted little – ”

“Gentlemen,” John interrupted. Silence fell, and two pairs of eyes settled on him curiously. “We don't have all night, and if you don't mind, I have some questions I'd like to ask Mr Dresden.”

Harry shifted nervously at the formal address, knowing full well that it usually meant he was in trouble, but nodded. “Shoot,” he said.

“Why did you bring a supernatural being to witness these sessions without discussing it with me first?” It was a violation of trust, after all, and the skull had seen more than enough to connect the dots of their relationship dynamics before John had even had a _chance_ to agree to his … its … his presence.

“For that matter, why risk involving someone else in the first place? I never brought it up, and it's not a kink that does anything for you.”

Harry sat across from John, scooping up his duster to drape over his lap. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to surprise you with something you'd been craving, and I didn't stop to think about whether you'd be okay with it. And, yeah, exhibition's not my thing, but seeing you mindless with lust _is,_ and this was something I noticed was a bulletproof kink for you. But why I brought Bob… Answer a question for me first, while we're on the subject of discussions. Why didn't you ever tell me you wanted someone to watch?”

Flushing, John muttered, “It didn't matter. It's an open secret that I'm seeing you, and that's already shaken my standing. Letting word get out that I'm subbing would be – ”

“A disaster. Yeah. So it had to be someone we could trust to keep quiet. You won't risk alienating Cujo, he's too important as a friend and a partner. Gard ultimately answers to someone else. That left Bob. Who definitely wouldn't be uncomfortable with watching, and doesn't have any relations with you to ruin anyway. Plus, um, I figured it was about time I introduced you two. So. Um. Happy anniversary, John.”

John tipped his head back and laughed helplessly. “You lunatic. This is a hell of an introduction.”

“Well. Bob, my lover John. John, my oldest friend Bob. He's an air spirit, and, um, you can't tell anyone about him. There's a lot of people who'd try to capture or destroy him if they knew he still existed. And hey, at least I keep things interesting.” John snickered.

“A pleasure, I'm sure, Spirit Bob.”

“Oh, believe me, the pleasure's all mine, hot stuff. Hey, can I – ”

“ _No,_ Bob.”


End file.
